


The Art of Self Destruction

by noifsandsorbees



Category: The X-Files RPF
Genre: Angst, F/M, Season 1
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-22
Updated: 2015-12-22
Packaged: 2018-05-08 08:59:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5491415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/noifsandsorbees/pseuds/noifsandsorbees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So far he’s the only one who understands that she specializes in self destruction, but he thinks they’ll learn soon enough.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Art of Self Destruction

She looks impossibly young when she’s sleeping next to him in just his t-shirt and it makes him feel so very old. He’s counting down the bittersweet days until she won’t need him anymore, until her mercurial tendency to push him away becomes their norm and she realizes she can do this on her own. But he’s starting to think he’ll break first, that one day soon her giggles as she messes up take twenty will spark an instant migraine instead of a swell of affection.

Most days she reeks of hairspray and sweat and a never ending cloud of smoke and sometimes he can’t breathe around her. But her lipstick is still stained on his hip and when he closes his eyes on set to wish her away all he can think about are the kiss-scarred cigarette filters littering his hotel room floor from another midnight spent running lines, her sitting between his legs and his hand down her shirt as she struggles over medical terminology she’s supposed to already know by now.

He can’t understand how this is still so hard for her, why she can’t just memorize the words so that he can toss the script away and fuck her senseless; she walks out when he tells her so.

He apologizes the next night with his head between her legs, then leaves bruises on her wrists as he pins them to the wall and comes inside her. He dodges the hateful glares of her makeup artist who covers up more blue and purple than any of them have seen before, but they don’t see her euphoric smile as he slams into her and tightens his grip, they don’t hear her rasp in his ear, _fuck me for real, you pussy._ So far he’s the only one who understands that she specializes in self destruction, but he thinks they’ll learn soon enough.

And it’s only in the quietest hours of the night, with her head on his pillow and his palm rubbing circles on her bare back, her quiet snore warming his heart, that he’s willing to admit he’s exactly the same.


End file.
